


pressed between the pages of my mind

by makoheadrush



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makoheadrush/pseuds/makoheadrush
Summary: Short piece revolving around Legend/Zed from Before Crisis, and my OC background for him.  On Remembrance Day, Zed visits the graves of those he's loved and lost, reflecting upon their presences in his life - and lack thereof now that they've returned to the Lifestream.  He also struggles with a fear of losing those memories of those he's lost, as the years that pass cause those memories to fade over time.





	pressed between the pages of my mind

Spring in Junon was a capricious sort of thing; some days the sun would warm the water enough that you could dip your toe in and swear it was mid-summer.  Other days – like today – the cold, damp air hung heavy, the chilly fog and low-lying clouds preventing the sun from warming the earth, making it feel more like a rainy autumn day than almost-summer.

Perfect weather to reflect the somber mood Zed now felt, a bouquet of his mother’s favorite yellow and white lilies clutched in one hand, Roxy’s favorites – purple and white plumeria – held in his other hand.  He made way through the soggy grounds of the cemetery to the family plot, a shadow falling over his face as he reached the spot where four memorial stones lay.  One for each of Zed’s parents, and one each for Roxy and Laurelei. 

Zed’s parents had died many decades earlier; his father, a firefighter with Junon FD, had died on the job when Zed was only four years old.  He had few memories of the man, but the ones Zed could summon to the surface were, at least, happy ones. 

Jackie, his mother, had died after a brief but terminal illness, returning to the Lifestream the summer Zed had turned fifteen.  So many years had passed by now that Zed’s memories of his mother were growing hazier around the edges.  He feared very little in life; as a Turk, he’d seen it all, and after losing Roxy and Laurelei so tragically, Zed often felt that there wasn’t much more that life could throw at him that could knock him down.

The thought of those memories fading, though – memories of those he’d loved so fiercely and had lost – that thought was the one thing that kept him up at night.  Sometimes he’d wake up out of a sound sleep after dreaming about them, desperate to grasp those fleeting images from his sleep, wanting to hold onto them in his waking state. 

He knelt down on the dewy grass, not caring about the dampness soaking through his jeans.  Calloused fingers traced the engraved names on each grave marker.  _Jacqueline Zadrowski, beloved wife….Ivan Zadrowski, beloved husband…_ Zed blinked, placed the lilies over his mother’s grave, then pulled a flask from his pocket, downing a belt of single malt.  He poured the remainder over his father’s grave, and sighed, capping the flask and pocketing it. 

Zed then turned and knelt between the graves of Roxy and Laurelei, and his eyes swam.  He placed the plumeria – already starting to wilt, more used to the warmer climes of Costa del Sol than the cool damp of Junon – on his dead wife’s grave, then reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a bag of seashells, all rattling against each other.  One by one, he pulled out the shells – he’d gathered them that very morning in Junon Harbor, at low tide – and placed them in a circle over his daughter’s grave. 

A memory came to him suddenly, unbidden; the last time they’d walked along the seashore together, engaged in Laurelei’s favorite activity of seashell-gathering.  The sea-spray had dampened her curls; Zed could still remember, even now, seeing the rising sun bouncing off of her hair as she ran happily up and down the wet sand, plastic bucket in hand, shouting triumphantly any time she’d found another one.  Roxy’s hand was in his own as they walked together, feet bare upon the sand, smiling at one another, and at Laurelei’s contagious joy and enthusiasm.

_What I wouldn’t give…..just one more day.  One more minute, one more hour._

“I miss you.  I miss my girls,” Zed murmured, wiping his nose quickly on his sleeve.  He stood, heart feeling lighter and heavier all at once, and he sighed.  They were all gone now; the only ones left in the family now were himself and aunt Sylvia, along with a handful of cousins he rarely saw.  Sylvia was getting on in years now herself, but kept active.  Zed knew that someday he’d be visiting his aunt’s grave as well, though it was a thought he dared not linger upon for very long. 

Hours later, he’d take aunt Sylvia out to brunch as he did every Sunday, and laugh as she’d have one too many mimosas, sharing stories of Zed’s parents, and wishing her brother and sister-in-law could have lived long enough to see their granddaughter before her life had so tragically ended.  Zed made a mental note to himself to try and remember these little stories and anecdotes that Sylvia so freely and happily shared; she was the last tie to his parents and those memories, and when she was gone, there would be nobody left to tell those stories.

Except for him. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a personal note - today is mother's day here in the States, and it is the first one without my mom, so my heart is heavy. I wrote this piece as a way to help myself through the sadness, and hopefully it will help anyone who's also missing a loved one.
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of “Memories”, an Elvis Presley song.


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